


Collar

by SeverinadeStrango



Category: Sengoku Basara
Genre: Akechi Mitsuhide is His Own Warning, Akiyama Nobutomo Belongs to @judasetcetera, Alternate Universe - Modern, BDSM, Collars, Implied Sexual Content, Light Bondage, M/M, Obsession, Submission, Surrealism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-25
Updated: 2019-01-25
Packaged: 2019-10-15 21:23:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17536529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeverinadeStrango/pseuds/SeverinadeStrango
Summary: Mitsuhide craves that feeling of being undoubtedly owned.  Nobutomo is more than happy to provide that for him.





	Collar

**Author's Note:**

> Akiyama Nobutomo is a historically based OC created by my friend @judasetcetera.

Mitsuhide had lost count of how many hours had passed – it felt like hundreds, thousands, even. He squirmed where he lay on the couch, a thin sheen of sweat covering his forehead and cheeks as he whined quietly in discomfort. How much longer how much longer maybe he shouldn’t have agreed to this maybe maybe, but he could bear it and he knew he could and that was half of the thrill. Listening for the footsteps at the door. Digging his nails further into the fabric of the sofa as he closed his eyes and tried to block out everything around him even though his thoughts ultimately kept returning to him, just as he had known that they would.

It was like this every weekend, the little game they played. Mitsuhide would wait, as patiently as he could, for as long as Nobutomo deemed necessary. Sometimes he would temporarily go out, as he had today – and sometimes he would remain torturously within arm’s reach for hours on end. Ultimately Mitsuhide never had been sure which one was more painful to bear.

Torture this is torture why do I do it. Because I love it. There, answered, settled.

The clock on the shelf had been turned around to face the wall, part of their little ritual, and it was with some kind of doomed hope that Mitsuhide had glanced towards it. Of course it wouldn’t have contained the answers – he was at the mercy of him and not at the mercy of time (utterly irrelevant). Please hurry back, but at the same time he wanted to languish in every single second of this exquisite experience, pain that could not be matched.

The little silver bell attached to the snugly buckled leather strap jingled softly as he shifted, and he could feel little chills starting to inch their way down his spine, reminding him why he did this, why he so willingly gave himself over. It was because of those little things. Being owned, collar on or off, every second of every day.

Taking a single, shaky breath, Mitsuhide attempted once more to sit still, to wait patiently, to prove himself worthy. It was the very reason that he stayed, after all.


End file.
